Thoughts of a Jaded Hunter
by Raxychaz
Summary: The lamentations and musings of an overworked babysitter that manages to squeeze in enough time to do his actual job of murdering giant animals.


'_I feel like more of a babysitter at times._' Thought a youthful man with stark white hair as he stared at his 'partner'.

She was his Handler, though he did more of the actual handling. Of situations and of paperwork, she was good for logging details, quite good actually. She had a talent of inane details that he usually missed in the throws of combat.

Like how depending on the time of year Bzaelgeuse's enrage patterns changed.

Though the little help she gave was outweighed by the amount of stress she gave him.

He used to be blond, for example.

Astera was supposed to be his fresh start, he was coming to the middle of nowhere, the New World, to start anew as Dundorma had sort of driven him up the wall, though he dearly missed the folks of the Caravan.

But no.

No he had to be relegated this dumpy dipstick.

'_I mean really, what kind of fucking idiot has 'When in doubt, take a bite!' as their motto!? Her father is an idiot, who raised an idiot._' There were a lot of poisonous thoughts that he kept to himself, lest anyone decide to intrude on his relatively quiet lifestyle.

He had other friends, who worked with the Commission who didn't have to deal with such things, that orange haired twat from the Ace Hunters - the Cadet - had for some reason decided he needed to be in the New World.

His Handler was amazing, she was concise and dutiful.

He'd trade an in a heartbeat. 

'_That's right you shit, stuff your face._' He narrowed his azure gaze at her from above the book he was reading, his Palico was asleep on his lap, sunning himself contently.

JoJo was a good boy.

JoJo always actually _helped_ on his Hunts, and the Tailraders were always busy at work collecting resources or materials for his stash.

He was caught in an impossible situation since day one, in the New World.

_He'd_ gotten them from the Ancient Forest to Astera, what idiot didn't carry several knives to fight of little monsters!?

_Her_.

_He'd_ made it so the researchers could track Zorah Magdaros.

_She_ could barely push a cart!

_He'd_ saved her so many times that he was almost dizzy at the prospect.

_She _tried to get him killed almost every time they found a new beast, AND never said anything about it!

She'd never thanked him for saving her, she'd never apologised for putting them in danger!

And she had this weird fucking fascination with the old Tracker they'd found in the Rotten Vale!

Leave the woman alone!

JoJo stirred in his lap and looked up at him, the green eyed cat gave him a calming pat on the side.

He hadn't realised he'd tensed up so much.

The Hunter snapped his book closed, scooped up his precious cat boy and left.

"Catch'ya later Pard!" The Handler bid, he almost stopped and glared but just kept walking.

Sweet Elders he hated that nickname.

No one seemed to use their names around here, the Field Team Leader? His name was Lance. You wouldn't know that, no one would because the fucker never says it.

He had to ask the Commander, named Archibald, what his name was because he wasn't going to keep calling the ponytail-bone necklace-wearing dick by his title the entire time.

The Hunter had a name it was Andrew, but would anyone know that? No of course not, he was just Hunter to everyone or 'Hey You.'

Fuckers.

At least when he was in Dundorma his friends used his Elders damned name!

Calm, he needed to calm.

'_At least the Ace Twit has a better time of it but buggering hell, why'd they pair me with the mentally challenged one?_' Andrew lamented.

He was by in large independant, as a hunter. He did his own hunt paperwork, his own stocking and supplying, and pretty much everything else he was used to doing himself, some things were apparently supposed to be relegated to the Handler, but he'd not bothered to associate with the woman more than he was required.

The Caravan Guildmarm, Marjoline, assisted him at times with refining his research notes. Making them more concise and all around cleaner for others to read, which he greatly appreciated.

Andrew sighed, trudging up to his room as a wave of exhaustion hit him, he wasn't built to cater to the idiots of the world. He was a Hunter, he hunted. And yet he was also a babysitter.


End file.
